The Catch
by Emperor Sunny
Summary: The life of a Mandalorian boy from the end of the Yuuzhan Vong war up to and mabye past Jacen Solo's rise to power. POSTPONED
1. Chapter 1:Intro:Knightfall

this is the foreward from the Clone Wars, introducing the story of the main charecter's ancestery, as well as setting an inspiration for many things later on in the story, (people, places, items. the like.) I own not at thing, so enjoi.

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Prologue with typical Star Wars Intro

In the waning hours of the CLONE WARS, the troops of the 501st LEGION found themselves fighting for the will of CHANCELLOR PALPATINE, and climbing the steps of the JEDI TEMPLE to bring an "END OF THE JEDI REBELLION," behind the newly minted DARK LORD OF THE SITH, DARTH VADER.

The main force was the 501st, but discreet, small masses of other CLONE TROOPERS infiltrated the TEMPLE. The specialized ARC TROOPERS, who where called in from multiple intelligence missions abrubtly throughout the GALAXY, made secret by the EMPEROR, were dispatched to find key SITH artifacts, JEDI secrets and were to loot the JEDI's hidden vaults.

These vaults, rumored to hold weapons, preserved bodies, HOLOCRONS, written teachings and other vast archeological treasures from both JEDI and SITH lore, were what the EMPEROR _really_ wanted: they held the secret wealths of knowledge to deep, ANCIENT SITH teachings, found by the JEDI and used by them to discover the secret of DARTH BANE's RULE OF TWO.

However, he didn't predict that an ARC could fall in love. Especially not with a JEDI. Thus begins the spiralling end to the COMPLETE DESTRUCTION OF THE JEDI.

Nevertheless, the sight of the smoke could still be seen, even from orbit, burning itself into the memories of those who saw. To some, sorrow. Sorrow at the loss of heroes, and the protectors of good. To others, some degree of fear. And then, those who were glad to see them gone; the vile, corrupt senators, the crime bosses, the SITH.

But it was known to all who saw those burning towers, the fast, steady flow of lightsabers flashing off, one by one, the galaxy would _never_ be the same. Never again would the JEDI trust a politician, or a politician a JEDI. Never again will the JEDI be truly, dutifully, the PROTECTORS of PEACE, TRUTH and JUSTICE in the GALAXY. They would be to busy watching their own skins...

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The Coruscant night was unusually quiet, this night. The only thing disrupting the out of place peace was the hum of lightsabers, the drone of DC-class blasters and the sudden thermal detonator explosions. Tonight was a somber, sobering night; it was Knightfall.

Alpha ARC-11, or Skylark as Jango named him, looked up at the Coruscant skies in sorrow._'Such a lovely, lonely night. No air traffic, must be from the smoke and Laartee's,'_ he thought. Indeed they were lonely, void of the life Coruscant was known for. Similar to the the sadness he felt, the empty feeling born from the thoughts of what he was about to do.

He was out in the Outer Rim, looking for the Separtist leaders with his Jedi Commander. Padawan Flin-Ka Nemura. His commander. His _Jeti'i_. His _Burc'ya_, or "Friend,". His _Cyar'ika_. Sweetheart. Yes, he loved her with all his cloned, Mandalorian heart. His Kar'tayllir darasuum. His eternal love. _'If I see her here, can I shoot her? The woman who would give being a _Jeti'i_ to be with me? To announce her love to _me_? Who gave her one innocence to me? How can I stand here, let my _vode_ kill her _vodeNo, he could not. He turns, and sees a sight that will haunt him for the rest of his days. Senator Organa, for some useless reason, was on the Northern landing pad, talking to some 501st _shebs_.

Then, out pops a jedi apprentice, whom his visor names Zett something, he didn't really look. Cause all he could do was watch in agony as the Jeti'i killed Skylark's brothers in fear, while they killed him in turn, in a cold manner that spoke _EVIL._ They, of course, don't see Skylark. He's on a balcony, behind cover, doing a reecee his mission. "Better find that security bank," he mumbles to himself. "The Chanc-er, _Emperor, _wants those codes for the vaults..."

He ambles off, following the Maintenance corridors to move on throughout the Temple in secrecy. His readout showed he had to go through the Jedi Creche, the toddlers wing. "Blast! I don't need this fierfek!" he exclaims to himself. He activates his motion tracker, and to his dismay, there are twenty-three Blue blips-clones, surrounding a blood red cursor, signaling out the Jedi's presence. Thing was, the blip was identified as Flin-Ka Nemura, Padawan, Commander. "Damn it."

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Flin-Fa never expected that she would die at the hands of those she had faithfully fought with. The faceless clones who sacrificed themselves to save her on Geonosis just three some-odd years ago, now looking to slaughter her in cold blood without a second thought. The clones she made a point of thanking, getting to know, always asking the names of, all coming after her like hawkbats circling a nest of baby granite slugs. She cried unknowingly, with tears streaming down her sharp face, knowing she was going to die. But she would do it fighting. Protecting these little younglings, her future, the Jedi's future. She wouldn't let the clones or Skywalker kill them without her death first. Not even Skylark would be let through. That bastard, that clone whom she let take away her heart and make her give away everything she knew to be with. He was just another murderer and traitor in a sea of murderers and traitors. He would die like the rest.

Sensing the clones making their way to the creche, she pulled her murky blonde her into a tight ponytail. Her hands brushed by her face, revealing to her tears she didn't realize she was shedding. She brushed them away from her deep blue eyes as she overlooked all the children. Almost all were scared, save one. He was the eldest, still clutching a training saber from his early evening sparing lessons. He looked Flin in the eye and told her, "It'll be alright. You can do it! We'll make it!" He never tore his brave stare from her suprised gaze.

"I know, sweety, I know," she replied, hugging the brave child and ruffling his dark brown hair. "Now, be brave. For all of the younglings. Don't be afraid to-"

"I'm not afraid to die. We are Jedi. We die all the time, fighting for the good of the Galaxy. Even if they kill us in turn."

She didn't expect that. "What's your name?"

"Jarren," She hugged him tighter, drawing strength from his bravery. Then Flin-Ka let him go; the clones were nearing.

She walked over to the door, standing in front of the thirty-some younglings, all three to seven years of age, protecting them from the emotionless voids she felt coming to steal their lives away. Igniting her magenta-colored lightsaber, she prepared for a last stand.

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Skylark's com cracked, and his ARC commander Advisor's voice came through. "New order's, Eleven. There is a Jedi in the Creche. Take her out, 5-5-5, her and her Younglings."

Gritting his teeth, he couldn't help cursing. 5-5-5 meant 'all clear,' or 'above all else'. He replied, "Roger that, Advisor. 'Leven, out." Then, he had an epiphany. He had sex with an eighteen year-old Jedi girl. That he _loved_. He ripped off his helmet, cut out his side of the comm, deactivated his broadcast chip, and ran. "She might be pregnant. With MY child. I'll never kill my child. Jan'buir, be proud of me," he prayed to the immortal soul of the only parent he knew, Jango Fett. He absolved that he'd do anything to save her, running to the aid of his World. His love.

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She killed as many as possible, but they kept coming. That door leading from the Main Hall of the Temple to the Creche swarmed with with clone after clone. She pushed out with her senses, calling on the Force to guide her, when she sensed someone near, a friend. Afraid, with the mind a child, racing against time. Fear, hinted with a strange, childish calm, who felt like it was going against all it was taught to do because it was, what it believed to be, right.

'_Skylark?'_ Distracted, she suddenly felt nothing but burning pain...

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Skylark stopped at the security console and started to slice. He could save her, he just needed to unlock the Creche's maintenance door. Then get to the hangar and steal a shuttle. Simple. He sliced in easily enough. Force knows he only did it hundreds of times. Just when he had the CRECHE LOCKDOWN file come up and activated, he heard _Her_ scream. '_Oh no,'_ He couldn't have been to late. He initiated the lockdown and ran down the maintanence hatch. He gunned down the three troopers still in the room, and noticed some Jeti'i toddlers thrown on the floor. More crawled in, but he blasted them easily by calling the most basic Clone Trooper command:

"Troopers, CHECK!" They froze to attention, the Check call was inbred into them the way to hunt is in an Aiwha. All he had to do was blast them with his trusty DC-15. And he did. "Kill my woman!? I don't think so, _ner vode._"

Scrambling to her side, he looked at her injuries. Nothing bad, just a BSW to the right thigh. Simple. Again. "_Ner nehutyc al'verde_. You showed them, ner _Kar'tayllir darasuum._"

Seeing him, she struggled with him to keep his hands away. "What are _you_ doing, you bastard!"

"Saving you, now be quiet and stop struggling." With that, she stopped. She looked at him, confused as he tended to her wound. "I can't stand here and say that this is right. I have fought along side you, shed blood for you, and would die for you. No_ di'kut _is telling me to kill you. That Sithspawn will never get me to slaughter you. Now come, we must make ourselves scarce. Gather up the surviving kids, we're leaving."

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Flin-Ka couldn't believe it. Moments ago, she was fighting to her death. Now she was being carried in Skylark's arms, running to the Temple hangar bays. _'He saved me. He called me his love. _Ner nehutyc al'verde_, my feisty commander. He loves me enough to betray his brothers for me!'_ She snuggled into his armor, crying. Joy, grief, sadness, love, hate, anger and above all, hope. _'The Jedi will be rebuilt, Palpatine will lose sooner or later, the younglings will live on and I get to spend time with Skylark. Fett named him after a bird of prey on some backwater world, but the skylark is a legendary predator known for protecting their mates, fitting him. He is calm, poise in crisis, killing efficiently, patiently waits for openings, protects his allies. Like a skylark. He would have made a grand Jedi.' _"Sky?"

"Yes, Flin?"

"I love you."

"I love you. Here we are. Hangar Bay 1. There should be a YT-1300 in here. There she is, the _Millennium Falcon_. We''ll go to Nar Shadaa, from there, we'll find a new ship, and go to Mandalore. The clans will take us in as long as we become _Mando'ade._"

"We get really cool armor?" inquired a youngling.

"Yes. A helmet, armor, pure _besuk,_ Mandalorian Iron."

"Wizard! I'm gonna make mine blue, like my lightsaber!"

"Mine'll be red and blue and yellow!"

They went on, like the Jedi Purge just didn't happened. Skylark envied the the children, and their way of forgetting sorrow in the promise of something new. Flin looked up at her savior, smiled at him, taking in his helmetless face, the twenty-six year-old face of Jango Fett. But he wasn't Jango, he was Skylark. Her Skylark._ 'My skylark...'_

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	2. Chapter 2:A Table of Context

This is a little history leading up to the real story of Jarren Skylark and his exploits. I know this is a little teasing, to load _two_ intro chapters, but bear with it, the back story will do you good, little younglings. Or not so little, or not so young, younglings. eh, enjoi.

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_**Well, after this, the Jedi indeed went to Nar Shadaa, sold the **_**Falcon**_**, then traveled to Mandalore, or as Mandos calls it, Mando'yaim. The younglings were adopted into several different clans, leaving behind their Jedi robes and shutting off their lightsabers in favor of farm tools, blasters, and Mandalorian armor. They were welcomed openly, as Mandalorians always believed that family ran deeper than bloodlines. The Empire never found them, ignorant of the fact that Jedi would hide as Mandalorians, whom time once and time again they defeated one another on battlefields throughout history. **_

_**Skylark and Flin-Ka married and had a son. Starting a lineage with 'Skylark' as a surname, they bred a great warrior in young Canderous Skylark. **_

_**Named after a great Mandalore from long past, he proved everything a Mando should be: Strong, stubborn, a family man, profound warrior and... a farmer. Skylark passed on his ARC armor on to him at age thirteen, the age a Mando boy becomes a man. Canderous helped push Imperial control from the sector, fought during the Nagai invasion and took some merc jobs here and there, until his son was born. **_

_**Tracyn Skylark was named such for the time he was born in was when the Nagai invaded the planet, while his father fought hard to help save him and his planet. Unfortunately, his mother, who was a virtual unknown except for having straight, murky blond hair and piercing blue eyes like Tracyn's grandmother, Flin-Ka, died post-labor. Canderous raised him a good man and taught the boy to farm, fight and fly. When the time to fight for Mandalore in the Yuuzhan Vong war came, he, like his father, fought hard for his planet's freedom. But tragedy struck the family again; Tracyn died warding off the Vong, taking hundreds with him and stopping a Vong army from invading the capitol, Keldabe. He lived up to his name, but was killed when a surviving Vong squad surrounded him, killing him. **_

_**Vengeance came when his son, Jarren, a ten year-old boy, slaughtered them in a grief-induced rampage that even today cause the pacified Vong to whimper in fear of the'**_**boy who avenges'**_**. The boy, named for one of the lost Jedi Tracyn's grandmother told stories about, then took his father's armor and went on to fight with the rest of Boba Fett's campaign against the Vong. During, and most certainly afterwards, no one who saw his face again lived to tell about it, and nobody knew that it was the face of a young, hateful warrior under that fearsome, T-slitted helm.**_

Mandalorian Phrases you need to know/ the rest your on your own unless I offer a translation in text/ bottom of page:

vod, ner vod(e), vode an, vod'ika: brother, my brother(s), brothers all, little brother

shebs: backside, ass/derrogatory remark,

Rang:ash

fierfek: (Huttese), literally "poison, adopted as a curse by clone troopers, a "damn" or "f#ck"

ade, ad'ika: son/daughter, little son

Aliit ori'shya tal'din: "Family is more than blood", a saying

aruetii/aruetiise: foreigner(s), traitor(s), outsider(s)

beskar: mandalorian iron (I got that wrong in the prologue, besuk is a basilisk war droid/fighter)

buir: mother/father

Burc'ya vaal burk'yc, burc'ya veman: A friend during danger is a true friend

chakaar: grave robber, or thief, a term of abuse

Copaani mirshmure'ya, vod?: You looking for a smack in the face, mate?

cyar'ika: sweetheart, darling

darasuum: eternal

kote: glory

Dar'manda: An outsider, but not foreign, literally a Mandalorian who lost his/her heritage, and so his identity and soul, "of the beaten path", regarded with dread by traditional Mandos

di'kut: an idiot, moron, a waste of space, literally "someone who forgot to their pants on"

gal'gala: Lemme buy you a drink!

Kandosii!: Nice one!, Well done!, Wicked!

Kaysh mirsh solus: He's an idiot (lit. His brain cell is lonely)

Ka'ra: stars-Ancient Myth, the council of Fallen Kings

Mando'ad draar digo: "A Mandalorian never forgets."

Udesii!: Calm down!

osik:dung, shit (curse, obviously)

Pare!, Ke'pare!: "Wait one!", "Ke" is an emphasis

Rangir!: "To Hell with it!''

Ruusan(not to be confused with the planet): reliable one (common female name)

Su cuy'gar: Hello (lit. "You're still alive")

strill: a highly intelligent Mandalorian hunting animal

Dha Werda Verda: Song of the Shadow Warriors, almost a national anthem or song of pride

Gender (male/female) is rarely differentiated. For example, say your father's name is Boba and mother's name is Mara(theoretically). You would call your father _Bob'buir_, and your mother _Mar'buir(_Papa Boba and Mama Mara Your parent's, brother's and sister's would have the first three(or four, depending on the name) letters of their name plus "'ika, or 'buir, respectively,).

Hope this clears some confusion for those who aren't a bunch of Star Wars geeks like me who spend their time doing something more productive than read up on this all day.


	3. Chapter 3:The Beginning

And this is where the real begins. The climax of the Yuuzhan invasion, the worst war ever experienced in the Star wars galaxy, where trillions on both sides were killed. Sad, but happy in the end. So, enjoi! ps, I own not a thing...

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Tracyn Skylark looked up at the orange, setting sky, ruefully cursing those treacherous scarheads and their war fleet up in orbit. The Mandalorians' fleet did a good job of keeping them away, but then the Vong suicide charged, orbitally bombarding the planet as they swarmed down. While most were destroyed, a key few made it to the surface and released a brutal ground assault that even the bravest of the ancient Traung would think twice about counter-attacking. That, along with orbital reinforcements, left Mandalore in a dire situation. But Mandalorians fought worse battles and came out better some way or another, in the end, win or lose. If a 16 year-old _aruetiise_ Jedi boy could take down countless scarheads and a queen hell-lizard on a planet that _hated_ Jedi before dying, the Vong were nothing the Mandalorians couldn't handle. Now, Skylark wasn't stupid; he knew the odds were almost five to one, over the heads of normal people. But he, and his people were_Mandalorians_. It was a fair fight.

He took off down the dirt road. Keldabe was about three kilometers North, it's defenses slowly falling under the pressure put on by zooming coralskippers, swarming lizard slaves, and hulking rakamats pounding the city with their organic artillery. He had to do this, he simply _had_ to do this suicide mission. For him, his wife, son, and _vode_. He sprinted off with a new determination.

The mission was clear; his squad was to set ten kilo mines in strategic places around and in the newly massing Yuuzhan Vong army's march path, if only to stem the bleeding of Keldabe's heart. The mines were set on remote detonation, not immediate, so the scarheads would be caught in the worst possible position. Then the Mandalorians would pounce, charging from their homes and trenches, and take back their world. It was the perfect plan on flimsi, but execution was a totally different matter of it's own and Tracyn knew it.

He had the farthest mine to set, half a kilometer into enemy territory. He scaled past trees and dove behind some brush as a squad of six or seven Yuuzhan Vong soldiers jogged past, down the beaten path heading into Keldabe. He knew he could take the _shebs_, but he didn't want take any chances; his _kama'_s pack held a mine with enough baradium to smash thirty rancors into a bloody green pulp. They passed, and once out of sight, he moved on a little more stealthily, shoulders crouched and knees bent while walking on the balls of his feet.

He made good time, and he paused to check his map. He was in the vicinity of where the explosive were to be placed, so Tracyn looked about. He had a plethora of choices to hide his "welcome to the neighborhood" present. The rocks would dilute the blast radius, the fallen tree wasn't enough cover, the bodies would-"The bodies will do_nicely_."

The bodies, too dis-figured to be able to tell the difference between human or Vong, were piled up off to the side of the road, those scarheads probably threw them there in their haste. He placed the explosive under the pile and turned to make a mad dash for Keldabe, and ended up getting Keldabe-kissed by a scarhead.

"Where the hell did you come from, di'kut?"

It didn't bother blathering a reply in it's native tongue, it simply swung it's snake-sword at his helmet. Tracyn ducked, spun to the left and twirled behind the Vong, putting one of his antiqued Mandalorian Rippers to the alien's heaving throat. There was no hesitation, no holovid-worthy one liners, just an invading alien with no morals, a man defending his planet, and a pulled trigger. The scarhead spasmed in his grip and Tracyn threw the now headless, jerking cadaver into the bushes.

Once satisfied that no other enemies where in the area, he made off for Keldabe.

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"Almost there, Trace," Tracyn gasped, mostly to himself. For the past twenty or so minutes, he'd ran from the bomb site. Now the sight of Keldabe had almost filled his vision. By his measure, he was another three or four kilometers out. Thing was, the Vong were right behind him. "Blow the bombs!" he all but screamed into his comm, just as the heavy artillery bombarded Keldabe. An affirmative crackled in his ear, and he was enshrouded in a rumble of thunder and a torrent of fire as over three hundred kilograms of baradium explosives fired off simultaneously. Screams of rage and suprise arose from the depths of the flames; none were from pain.

Amidst the dead and dying, only one man immediately came to his feet. Tracyn Skylark crawled in the ashes and gathered the strength to rise to his feet. His vision swam, he was dizzy and nauseous. His right side field of vision was darkened by blood, and little "floaters" danced over his cornea. He was overall fine and uninjured, but the pain from his detached retina was almost unbearable. Noticing the cloud of dust that settled across the plain, he switched his visor over to night vision.

"You got'ba'kiddin'may," he breathed. There was a squad of scarheads, no further than twenty meters out, slowly limping there way towards the lonely Mandalorian.

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Klindrin Shai was not a happy Yuuzhan Vong. While it could be said that the the species as a whole were unhappy, be it the barbaric(to outsiders) culture, genotype, or divine intervention, the term "happy" applied to a Yuuzhan Vong who didn't just lose a battle by walking into an enemy trap blindly. No, he was the opposite. Angered, humiliated, and on the verge of what the Yuuzhan Vong would constitute as insanity, he lashed out at the nearest thing to him; the now headless Chazrach lizard-slave fell unceremoniously to the ground atop it's brothers in a twitching heap. Looking around the remnants of the battlefield, he managed to scrounge up twenty injured, shell shocked warriors. '_Twenty. Twenty out of almost nine thousand! Yun-Harla, what trickery is this, this assured victory lays as dead as the husk of Yun-Yuuzan!_'

His secondary officer came to him. "What is it, fool?"

"Commander, we have to move up, into the city. We may not be legion, but we must take this city, or else the battle is lost."

"Don't you see," he motioned to the battlefield with a sweep of his hand. "The battle is already lost, Plenra. This battleforce was supposed to reinforce the units attacking the city. These Mandalorians are worthy adversaries, they already have retaken much of Keldabe. And, oh, whats the term they use? Ah, They are _Keldabe Kissed_ing us out. Any plans in that head of yours, subaltern?"

"N-no, commander."

"Then prepare the men. We are going to fight to our deaths, and we're taking as many_sacrifices_ as we can..."

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Ever since Jarren were a child, his mother told him him was special. His mother, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty from Thyferra, was a loving and smothering kind, quick to tell him his differences didn't define me. His _buir_ met and wooed her during a merc run for a rich bacta selling family. She and the elderly people who knew his family back during the Clone Wars both said it repetively, but it was obvious to even his nine year old mind that both meant it in different ways.

Those elderly folk first brought his comsetic appearances up when he was around four or five, amusing him with tales of his great-grandfather's courageous(if not exaggerated) exploits in trying to help rebuild Mandalore. His patriarchal side of the family was always born with black, curly hair and rich brown eyes. They told him how the son of a Skylark always resembled the father, and that his straight black hair and his brown in one eye, blue in the other wasn't in the family norm. They reminded him that these differences were only details; they didn't deter the _Mando _inside. But it did deem him _especially special._ Whatever _that _meant.

So when the bombs went off, he felt a whole lot of nothing vanish, if that made sense. He couldn't accurately describe it, but it felt like a blackhole was lifted from the face off Mandalore, a weight lifted off it's shoulders.

"_Jar'ika_? Are you alright?'' asked Gotab, one of the elders who told him stories of the wars, one who told him he was '_special'_. "You felt it, didn't you?"

"Yes, it feels like a bunch of scarheads got what they deserved."

"Now, _Jar'ika_, that's not nice," admonished Gotab.

"But I heard Venku saying it. They come to kill us all, and they deserve to die for it. Right?"

"Yes, they deserve it. However, you should respect their abilities. Verbally bashing them behind their backs isn't going to kill them, it will cause you to become arrogant and hateful. When you become arrogant, you will lose your cool and get yourself killed. Also, if you hate your enemy, it will lead you to vengeance, and vengeance will grant you nothing but ghosts. Respect your enemies abilities, and exploit their weaknesses. Do you understand?"

Jarren considered the old mans words, chewing them over in his mind. _'No wonder Dad respects Gotab. He's the wisest ever!'_ He looked Gotab in the eye and nodded. It wasn't his place to question him anyway; his mother held the man and his alleged son, Venku, in great respect, and to disregard them would surely land him a lecture and dire punishment he didn't need.

His mother walked into view from her and Jarren's fathers room, as a soldier came to her, and he grabbed her attention. "I'm sorry, but _Ven'ika_said you should know... _Trac'ika_hasn't come back yet, we lost his comm signal when we blew the mines. I'm sorry, _Min'ika_, I really am."

"Th-thank you, Drelyn," she whispered. She reached for Jarren and hugged him close.

"Dad ain't coming back, is he?"

"He'll find a way,_Jar'ika_. He'll find a way."

His mother left him alone with Gotab again, disapperaring back into the bedroom in a fit of sobs. _'I have to bring back Dad, or Mom'll be hurt forever.'_ He looked around the house, and found what he was looking for. He shuffled over to his father's armor chest and popped the seal. Inside was the armor of his ancestor Skylark, the ARC trooper plates remade with _beskar_. Painted jet black with forest green and sharp silver lining, it's graceful curves fitting for a man of lean build and tall stature. The only thing not resembling the armor of an ARC was the standard Mandalorian helmet, hand built by the patriarch Skylark himself. He pulled the visor over his head and attached the chest plate to his torso and clamored around the various items until he found a blaster to suit his little hands. Grasping a pair of silver colored pistols, he made for the door.

"Where are you going, _Jar'ika_?" inquired Gotab.

"Save _Tra'buir_." '_And this will do _nicely.'

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The battlefield was covered in soot and ash, blood and bone. Jarren made his way past the dead bodies and Rakamat parts, wafting through the ash and dust of the baradium bombs fallout, until his visor's sensors picked up a group of survivors. They were surrounding what only could have been his father, the only moving being enshrouded in Madalorian armor._Tra'buir _was a mesmerizing battle artist, even though it was blatantly obvious he was injured.

He moved with the grace of a Jedi Master, the speed of an Echani firedancer, and killed with the efficiency of an assassin droid. It didn't matter, however hard he fought, a Vong would nick him there, scratch him there, and the poisonous bites and blood loss were taking there toll.

As five of the aliens moved to surround him, he lashed out at the nearest one to his left, his wrist blade slicing the throat cleanly even as his flamethrower swarmed the two on his right. The Vong on his right flank thrust at_Tra'Buir's _back, even as one of the aliens slashed at his back, thus igniting the exposed fuel in his pack. They all went up in a flash of fire and flames, and there was nothing Jarren could to help it.

"Dad!"

Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong

Klindrin was not getting any happier. The troublesome human had nearly killed the entire platoon of survivors, and he was just beginning show signs of fatigue. They fought, and the battle raged; dead men seemingly fighting for the right for salvation, as if only the last man standing would be blessed.

They finally were able to surround and flank the crazed and dying Mandalorian. The human lunged left and spurted fiery hell to his right, exposing his back to the subaltern. Klindrin would have cursed if he had the time, but he stuck with "Don't cut his fire tubes!"

The subaltern didn't listen.

The next thing he knew, he was flying through the air in a swirling swarm of orange and red and blue tongues, licking at his skin and armor with stinging, acidic tongues. His life flashed before his eyes and was over and back to the present by the time he hit the dirt. He saw his mate, his _sons_die before his eyes as they were killed on a now nameless world, victims of infidel machine birds. And as he laid dying, he heard them calling to him from the heavens, beckoning him from the world of physical living. His eyesight darkened and faded to black, and for once he felt _happy_.

"Dad!"

Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong-Vong

Jarren simply couldn't believe what he saw. His father, Tracyn, still gasping for air. Alive. Alive after suffering burns and poison and snake-swords.

"_Tra'buir_?"

"_Jar'ika_? Is that you, son?"

Jarren knelt at his fathers side. "Yeah, it's me, Dad." Tracyn took Jarren's hand, squeezed, and let go, never to squeeze again. And Jarren simply couldn't beleive it.


End file.
